


Are We Out of the Woods Yet?

by Miss_L



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, if we're lucky and I survive my exams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6726430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So yeah... Everything has gone to <i>poodoo,</i> and Hux is tasked with bringing Kylo Ren back to Snoke.<br/>Except the General isn't prepared for what he finds under the mask.<br/>Gratuitous fluff. There.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angryangryowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angryangryowl/gifts).



> ... who so maliciously pushed me into the Trashcompactor. How wwwude!  
> Also, cause she's fucking awesome, go shower her with love and Kylox fluff!!!

General Hux of the First Order was cursing like a common Weequay as he ploughed through the snow, followed closely by a handful of terrified Stormtroopers. He made a mental note to punish them all, despite their compliance. Fear had no place in the First Order. So, yes, he was cursing everyone and everything under his breath. First, he cursed Kylo Ren for being an infernal pain in his arse and ship. Leave it to him to have himself bested by a girl – the Supreme Leader had briefly told him what had happened, along with Ren’s coordinates. Then he cursed Han Solo and Leia Organa for making that overgrown man-child in the first place. If anything, Kylo was the very best argument for anti-conception. Hell, abstinence even. The General cursed out loud when the ground trembled under him and another section of the forest to his right plunged into the depths of the planet’s core. He pushed on, knowing he was close – and knowing Snoke would tear his eyes clean out of their sockets if he dared come back without that precious _peedunky._ Next, he cursed, very quietly, their great Leader himself, for saddling Hux up with Ren, and for making him search for the bloody menace while the world – _his world_ – was falling down around him. This gloomy thought was punctuated by a huge rift forming itself right in front of the search party, almost knocking the men off their feet with the shocks’ violence. Before the gap could become too big, Hux jumped over it, urging his ‘Troopers to do the same. They dared not disobey. The last one didn’t make it, the snowstorm and the rumbling of a dying planet muffling his no doubt impressive Wilhelm scream. 

The General saw a clearing between the trees and a huge gaping abyss behind it. The planet’s surface was trembling constantly, the snowdrift picking up pace as if preparing for a grand finale. And _what_ a finale it would be. Hux sighed melancholy and his thoughts turned back to Kylo’s parents as he spotted a dark form on the ground. Honestly, he thought, dragging his boots through the white muck, with what some called – in hushed tones and always looking around them furtively, as if fearing their own fortune might turn – the “Skywalker family curse”, those wretched humans should have known better than to procreate. Hux cursed their names again and again, even adding Darth Vader himself to the list once or twice. For good measure. The General’s vengeful thoughts trailed off when he was close enough to notice how much red was escaping Kylo Ren’s motionless body, the flurries not quite able to hide the damage with new snow, virginal white turning wine-red on impact. Hux sunk to his knees and turned Ren – suddenly feather-light and so, so fragile – onto his back, breath catching in his throat as he did so. The too-cold, _much, much too cold_ form of him was limp, no signs of life to be seen, but his face… It wasn’t the ghastly fresh scar – a constant reminder of his failure – that shook Hux to his very core, echoing the planet beneath his knees. It was the face itself – so young. So sweet and innocent in its sleep-like relaxation, only the softest, smallest of breaths escaping his bleeding lips. General Brendol Hux Jr., only son and sole heir to Brendol Hux Sr., Commandant for the Galactic Empire, felt a constricting sensation in his chest, too close for comfort to something that could be considered emotion. He rose again, ordered his men to carry the Knight’s unconscious body and led the way back to his personal shuttle, mindful to follow a different path than before. 

Despite his reserve not to look back, the General found himself falling behind his men, making sure his ally’s damaged body was handled properly during transport. The Stormtroopers were all the same height, forming a more or less comfortable stretcher for the injured _idiot._ Hux was back to cursing internally as he surveyed the scene before him. Despite the soldiers’ mortal horror and the fast pace at which they all but ran to safety, they held their line, supporting Kylo’s shoulders, middle and legs as if he were some kind of a grotesque offering. Which he would be, Hux realised, a waterfall of cold dread descending into his stomach and nestling in his gut. The Supreme Leader was scary enough when a hologram, but being in his physical presence after such a failure as today..? The General knew full well that the two of them would be lucky if they still had one face between them when Snoke was done with his punishment. Still, he mused as he sped up his steps to open the shuttle’s doors with his hand-print, he wouldn't dare disobey just yet. Not when Kylo was on the verge of death – he led the Stretcher Division towards the bunks and saw to it that they deposited him carefully before ordering them to close the door and leave. Not when he himself felt so vulnerable, his beautiful weapon destroyed under his very feet. The ship took off, engines barely audible over the screeching of the storm outside, over the breaking of ground, over the impending pulverisation of the planet’s core and, finally, of the planet itself. Still, he did not look out of the porthole to see his life’s work go up in a blast. Instead, he chose to quietly survey the Organa-Solo life’s work, brushing long wavy locks out of the _boy’s_ delicate, abused face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a little more hurt and angst than I had originally anticipated, but the pain ends here.  
> I promise.

Tightly-strung as General Hux is, he would expect the noises of torture to make his cock twitch. Instead, the shuddering manifests itself in the spot where, according to human anatomy, his heart should be. Every cry, every sobbing breath he hears Kylo utter sends his mind reeling, fills his chest with fury at the assailant. Yet, he is powerless, for the assailant is none other than their Supreme Leader. Their Supreme Leader who, in all his wisdom and unveiled sadism, has deigned to heal Kylo Ren’s grave injuries himself. For three days now, Snoke has been setting the unfortunate Knight’s bones, reknitting his skin at an inhuman, alarming pace, eradicating all damage while leaving gruesome scars in his wake. Hux knew instinctively that the Force-used could as easily smooth over Ren’s skin as if nothing had ever happened, but the blemishes were part of the punishment. Never given to much control in the first place, Kylo was now completely incapable to stop his pain and despair spreading to Hux when, after another bout of “medical attention”, the General had to pick him up off the floor and help him back to his room. Hux didn’t complain, instead gritting his teeth against the onslaught of the Knight’s sensations. All of the _boy’s_ (Hux couldn’t stop calling him that in his head) cells seemed to be on fire, mutating and multiplying faster than an average human body should be able to survive. The entire structure of his large, gangly being seemed to rearrange itself to accommodate the drastic changes going on within, dragging Kylo’s mind down with it into a constant stasis. His fever-dreams were atrocious to behold, sending his body into spasms, which could easily rival the contortions Snoke’s machinations brought on. 

Yet, in stark contrast to the misery bestowed upon Hux’ ally-gone-charge, the General himself was spoken to in civil tones. The Supreme Leader seemed to have put all the responsibility on Kylo, and when Hux tried to protest that, surely, they had been both to blame equally, shushed him and continued laying out their new strategy. As long as Ren wasn’t well enough to continue his training, they couldn’t do much more than wait, but some small tasks could be completed sooner. Now, as another wail from behind closed doors jarred Hux’ over-stimulated senses, it suddenly downed on him that this torture, this helpless spectatorship of the boy’s suffering, which was at once arousing rage and deep-seated sympathy inside his seemingly too-small chest – _this_ was his penance. He stopped pacing. Of course. Snoke was perhaps not as good a mind-reader as Ren, but he could no doubt discern Hux’ response to Kylo’s suffering before, and use it against him. 

With determined strides, Brendol Hux walked over to his room, closed the door behind him, and proceeded to methodically. Destroy. Everything. He pulled apart the wooden furniture with his hands, flinging the pieces against the walls. He smashed the tea-set which had been served to him earlier and stomped on the pieces. He tore the straw-filled mattress open and destroyed every mechanical device in sight. He even destroyed his own spare clothes, salvaged from the shuttle. Hux heard Snoke’s mirthless, nasty, vile laughter in his head throughout, but he did not care. The irony of the situation didn’t fail to impose itself through the small mirror – _behaviour not worthy of a General, although, apparently, perfectly fine for a Knight of Ren_ – until that, too, was wrenched off the wall and crushed, pulverised under a heavy military boot. Only then did Hux stop, heaving with exertion and anger, to sink onto his knees. His perfect composure was no more. His hair had fallen out of place, his knuckles and nails bloody, smears of blood and sweat and dirt on his usually perfect eyebrows and cheeks, his uniform crumpled and soaking with sweat. He sat like this for a long time, doubled over on his own pain and misery, ignoring the sharp glass tearing into his knees, ignoring the slow trickle of blood this caused, ignoring how much his head pounded and how much every breath hurt, ignoring even the moisture running steadily over his face and the sobs shaking his thin frame. He let it all flow through and out of his chest, only anger remaining. One day soon, the Supreme Leader would pay dearly for this offence. 

At long last, the General stood, shedding his dirty garbs. Relishing in the feel of glass and wood cutting into the soles of his feet, he walked over to the bathroom. Enjoying a long hot shower was not an indulgence General Hux ever allowed himself at work, but he wasn’t on one of the Star Destroyers now. Wrapping the only piece of clothing which had survived his wrath due to hanging in the bathroom – a bathrobe – around his wet body, and putting on his shoes, Hux briefly wondered what his men would think of his appearance. Then he remembered that he didn’t care, and would gut anyone who so much as raised an eyebrow, and set off to the shuttle. 

The polished metal of the small ship glimmered in the sun. Somehow, the chrome shine calmed Hux’ tattered nerves further. He changed on board and walked back towards the carved-out rock Snoke called home. The hall was quiet, the doors to the Leader’s throne-slash-command-room open. Kylo Ren was lying in a heap on the floor where Snoke’s “kindness” had struck him last. He was breathing hard, struggling to push himself upright, but at least he wasn’t bleeding anymore, Hux noted with relief as he bent over to help. 

“General,” the croaking, revolting, like the rest of him, voice of their Leader called. Hux straightened his back and turned to where the man – no, _creature_ – was standing, his hands on a control panel of his own. The General’s features morphed into a perfectly controlled mask of cold civility and obedience. Now that he knew what scurrility he was up against, he could defend himself. He was no fool, and had trained to withstand both physical and mental interrogation years before he had met either Force-user. Letting his emotions slip had been imprudent, but now he knew to still his _heartstrings_ in the face of his tormenter. Clearly, he had succeeded at least partially, Snoke’s expression a little unsure as he tried to stare into Hux’ soul.

“You may let Lord Ren rest, no further assistance to his healing from me will be needed,” he spoke at last. 

The General nodded, his face blank and thoughts carefully managed into an impersonal “yes, sir”. It was only after he had closed the door to Kylo’s room behind them and dragged the Knight’s limp form to the bed that he allowed himself to silently thank the gods he didn’t believe in for the respite. Knowing Snoke, this was nowhere near the end of their misery. 

Ren was still leaning heavily on him, despite being conscious and looking straight at his bed. Hus relaxed his eyebrows and nudged Kylo gently towards the bed. He didn’t budge, clutching his companion’s shoulder harder as if for comfort. He finally lifted his head and looked at – what were they now? Allies? _Friends?_ – Hux. The hurt in his eyes was overwhelming, drowning his pupils and irises in what could only poetically be described as “liquid misery”. Yet the General suddenly realised he didn’t feel the usual waves of physical and mental pain coming off the boy. He raised an eyebrow in question, while taking Ren’s hand gently off his shoulder and helping the taller man lie down. Kylo complied, but still the pleading gaze held Hux’ in what could have been a steel vice, were it not for the lack of steel. Or a vice. The General sat down next to his “patient” and sighed softly.

“He won’t hurt you anymore,” he whispered, threading his fingers through his friend’s – _why not?_ – unruly hair again and again, until Kylo closed his eyes and his body relaxed into a slumber. “I promise,” Hux added, resolve and fury again burning low in his stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't very well end the day with suffering and violence, could I?  
> (For those who don't know me: yes. Yes, I could.)  
> And here's what a Jagdkommando looks like: http://www.ohgizmo.com/2012/04/05/jagdkommando-dagger-has-twisting-blade-for-100-more-killing/

Next time Kylo Ren wakes up, he is back on the Finalizer, in his own quarters, in his own bed. He sighs a breath of relief, then tenses up. Someone else is in the room, he can sense them- Oh. Turning his aching neck just a little, the broken Knight can see the sleeping form of General Hux slumped on a chair in what looks like a very painful position. Tentatively, Kylo flexes his body and mind. Finger for hand for arm. Neuron for lobe for thought. He flexes the Force around him and a cup falls to the ground. Hux almost topples over together with the chair in bleary-eyed alarm, but he composes himself in a military second and faces a – very loud, but perhaps still dangerous – intruder, Jagdkommando tri-dagger (not standard issue) at the ready. Ren would find it hilarious, were it not so endearing to see the General being so protective.

“I’m sorry,” Kylo says quietly, and he watches every muscle in Hux’ body tense with the sudden need to jump a foot in the air, presumably accompanying the inelegant movement with an even less delicate banshee shriek. Instead, he resheaths his weapon and turns around, starting to fuss the second he lays eyes on his companion. He avoids looking at Ren directly. It’s weird, and in his weak state, the Knight can’t even begin to comprehend the reason for this evasion, nor pry into the General’s mind. He forgets for a minute that all such exercise has ever yielded was the image of a naked and very old Kajain’sa’Nikto. He does remember the almost-smirk his disgust had brought to Hux’ face and momentarily forgets where he is. Then his pillows are properly fluffed, the glass returned to its place on the table, filled with water and pushed within three inches of his relatively uninjured arm, the sheets straightened and an FX-6 droid hushed for beeping too loudly – which last part actually forced the medic to evacuate the room with a series of quiet, but very irritated clicks.

When General Nursemaid makes for Kylo’s pillows again, it's time to intervene. Ren puts his hand on his caretaker’s forearm in a soft, but firm grip, keeping him in place, forcing the ginger to look at him in the dim light of the soothing overheads. Blue meets brown and everything clicks into place. Hux’ soft, worried gaze conveys all that his carefully guarded thoughts never would. Kylo’s brain floods with the satisfaction of realisation and the elation of what he has uncovered, short-circuiting what little thought he is currently capable of with a sea of hormones. His delight must have shown on his unprotected face, because Hux’ expression suddenly shifts to cold and distant. But before the General can pull back his arm and his affections, hurt by what he could only have interpreted as mockery, Ren speaks.

“Thank you for saving my life.” It isn’t nearly enough to convey how grateful and indebted he truly feels, but it smooths Brendol Hux Jr.'s brow and relaxes his back, which _is_ a good result, all things considered. The General nods curtly, warmth seeping through in the corners of his eyes.

“Rest,” he says, sitting back down on the chair. Kylo watches his silent guardian until sleep once again overtakes him.


	4. Chapter 4

It was not in Kylo’s nature to lie around all day – despite having a very dramatic flair – so it didn’t take long for him to don his new mask and relatively new togs and start skulking around the ship. Except… Something must have happened to the artificial gravity, because it kept pulling him towards Hux. The General’s put-upon sighs at having a human shadow lacked any conviction whatsoever, so Ren let himself drift closer every time. Soon, an unspoken agreement was established. Hux would never mention the Supreme Leader and they would conveniently forget that Kylo still needed to complete his training once he was better. And Lord Ren would wear his mask at all times and stay at a respectful arms’ length in view of their subordinates. Of course, Kylo wouldn't agree to take his mask _off,_ not even for a shiny new lightsaber, but now there was also the danger of exposing the General. Since “goo-goo eyes” was his default setting in view of Ren’s face now. And that.

Kylo tried to find this newfound tenderness in the impassive war machine – to the rest of the world, at least – ridiculous or stupid. But the truth he wouldn't even admit to himself (yet) was… He soon ran out of excuses to visit Hux in his private quarters, or to get his friend to drop by instead. At first, he had the legitimate “my bandages need changing and you’re the only person I’ll allow near me” argument. Soon, however, even the deepest wounds had closed up, and any kind of nursing became redundant. Kylo soon found that pretending that his memory was somewhat damaged by his ordeal was “cute” at first, but by the third time he made Hux explain the plans for the new Starkiller Base, the Ginger looked ready to catch fire. There _was_ always the “look at me, I’m damaged and emotional”-card, and in the dark of the nights, Ren might have once or twice contemplated using it, but Hux was not his mother _(thank Heavens!)_ and sharing was not something men did. Or whatever.

By the end of the week, Kylo found himself pacing the length, then the width of his chambers, occasionally kicking a piece of furniture in his annoyance. He was bored, yes, but he knew that there was only one whose company he truly desired. A loud banging came from behind the wall, and a shout. Ren froze in place. Then a wicked light went on in his brain. He started pacing again, kicking every single piece of furniture and tech he came across. Three minutes later, the banging was repeated, this time on his door, the heavy steel reverberating with the force of the blows. Kylo stopped. He gingerly walked to the door, checked the camera to find a very irate General Brendol Hux Jr., tried to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching into a happy – and smug – smile, failed, tried again, opened the door and stepped back. An orange-and-black hurricane entered, slamming the door shut behind him and proceeding to give Kylo the talking-to of the century. 

He tried to listen, he really did. But he just so happened to find the General in an utterly seductive state of undress. The man’s collar was undone, showing an expanse of white neck – Kylo’s mind was conjuring images of bitemarks on that perfectly pale skin before he knew what was happening – strands of his normally slicked-down hair loose and dancing whenever Hux shook his head for emphasis. He had already taken off his lovely shiny boots, making him somewhat shorter than his companion (who was still in full battle-gear, sans mask), although no less deadly. Normally gloved fingers fluttered about like white doves, the tiniest of freckles and light hairs adorning the rather slender wrists. His plush, usually somewhat purple lips were now wine-red and wet, little droplets of spit that left his mouth together with the no doubt biting words – Ren found that a strange ringing in his ears prevented him from hearing anything the man said – adding to the effect. Hux’ face was flushed and getting redder the angrier he became, a beautiful shade of pink rising from his neck to his cheekbones and further up. And, lastly, his eyes. The usually tranquil, somewhat fishy and cold orbs were all but spitting fire now, a resonance of his carefully controlled mania igniting the light blue depths and reeling Kylo into a maelstrom he didn’t think he had the strength to leave. Nor did he want to. He wanted to stay in that deep ocean, dangerous not in its unpredictability, but in its hidden warmth. He had to be very careful-

Either the blood rushing in Ren’s ears had become deafening, or the General had abruptly shut up. The Knight blinked his eyes back into focus. Hux was standing perfectly still, eyes wide and pupils blown in what could only be described as mortal terror. His beautiful hands were hanging limply at his sides, completely forgotten as instruments of defence. But the worst of it all was his mouth. Or, rather, Kylo’s thumb caressing his full bottom lip. _Huh._ He didn’t remember giving his brain the command to step forward and start palpating his guest, and yet here he was, slowly and shamelessly running his digit along the moist curve. As if on a delayed hologram, the General’s lips parted further, distracting Ren yet again with their fullness, and the promise of tongue on tongue, or finger, or-

“Wh- What are you d- doing?” Hux finally squeezed out, not, however, making any attempt to pull away from the endearment.

“I’m not sure,” Kylo ventured, his voice too dry, too needy, too breathless. His eyes were pulled to pupils blowing ever wilder. Finally, the General moved, but not, as Ren momentarily feared, to attack or flee. Instead, Hux leaned into the touch like a small animal, starved for affection. He closed his eyes, allowed Ren to bring up his other hand and gently pet his almost luminous hair. He smiled, then, a picture of perfect bliss as he lifted his face _(unprotected neck – danger – prey – hot)._ Kylo did not need to be told twice. He moved his hand from the General’s lips to his jaw; lips touched and all of the lights on the ship blew. Immediately, panic broke out outside the room, but the two men sharing an intimate embrace could not care less.


End file.
